Sydney to LA
by yas-m
Summary: 20 September 2014: In honor of LOST's tenth anniversary, here's a short ficlet looking at the three days before flight 815.
1. 20 September 2004

In honor of LOST's tenth anniversary coming which is in three days, here's a short ficlet looking at the three days before flight 815.

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><p><strong>Sydney to LA<strong>

**Chapter 1: 20 September 2004**

Jack looked down at the small paper in his hand and them back up, studying the dodgy surroundings around him. For a brief moment he wondered if the concierge at his father had given him the correct address. "Here you go, Mr. Shephard," the young hotel employee had said in his thick Australian accent as he scribbled on a small notepad, "that's the bar your father had been going to a lot during his stay here." Jack had taken the paper from and before he could ask, "it's a fifteen minute walk from here," the concierge added, "you can take a taxi, but in this rush hour, you're better off walking."

Jack thanked the man and made his way towards the place his father had last been seen. Jack looked around him. This certainly wasn't one the places he'd imagined the great Dr. Christian Shephard to frequent. Back home, his father only dined and drank at the finest restaurants, at members only clubs. Never anything like this. He could imagine the disdain in his father's if he ever would have talked about a place like this. He would probably name over 70 infections and diseases someone could come in contact with just driving through such a neighborhood. His father is an arrogant, condescending asshole, after all.

Too focused on studying the directions on the paper and the street signs around him, Jack was not paying much attention to what was right in front of him. Absentminded, he didn't notice the clean cut, clean shaven, suited man stepping out of the black, tinted window car.

"Hey, watch it!" the square jawed man barked at him when Jack walked right into him.

"Sorry, sorry," Jack apologized, grabbing the man's shoulder to prevent him from falling over.

"You ok, sir?" Jack heard the driver call out as he stepped out of the car. Same dark suit, same clean haircut and close shave, with dark sunglasses and an ear piece. Jack didn't fail to catch their American accents, and was quick to conclude they were government agents of some sort. What were American government agents doing in a place like this.

The man waved his driver away, signaling to him that everything was under control and to get back in the car.

Jack straightened, stepping back, "I'm really sorry," he repeated.

"Yeah, just watch where you're going, okay?" The agent said in disdain, ignoring Jack completely and turning his focus back towards the car.

Jack shook his head, contemplating for a moment whether to engage him further, quickly opting to just walk away. He had far more pressing matters to attend to.

He took a few steps down the sidewalk, turning back for the slightest moment to take one final look at the strange scene behind him - what the hell were two American government agents doing in a place like this? - but he turned around a split second too soon. A split second before Agent Edward Mars led his prisoner out, the wild haired brunette with sparkling green eyes and a sea of freckles.


	2. 21 September 2004

**Chapter 2: 21 September 2004**

Kate sat on the edge of the bed in the small hotel room Edward Mars had locked her in. She sighed heavily as the worn out mattress springs under her squeaked and the bed creaked. She looked at surroundings, a smelly dark room, the bed had one leg shorter than the rest, the bed covers looked like they had not been washed for decades, the wall paper was covered with very curious stains and the mirror, well what she thought was the mirror, was hidden behind an inch thick sheet of dust. The room smelled like bad perfume, burnt cigarettes, cheap whiskey and bad sex.

But beggars… well beggars couldn't be choosers, and right now, with her wrists bound tight in handcuffs, and her ankles shackled, with the room locked from the outside, and two armed guards standing outside her door, she really couldn't be picky.

She had sat for hours in the back seat of that car, with the two agents up front, and Mars in the back seat next to her as they drove to this shit hole. She had sat silently, grinding her teeth as she battled to ignore Mars' taunting and provocative slurs. He wanted the pleasure of getting something out of her, but she was not going to give it him. She just sat there, staring out the window for miles and miles. She watched as the beautiful countryside turned into the quiet suburbs, then into a bustling bright city, and then she watched as the car made its way into this shanty neighborhood. She watched as the driver stopped next to the miserly establishment Mars' told her was her new home for the next few days. "You're gonna feel right at home here, Katie," he mocked and she watched the homeless people sitting on its front steps, the pimp just a few steps up the street and who she was pretty sure was a dealer leaning against the door.

She'd contemplated a possible escape a handful of times during the drive, of course she did, but she had never had the chance, not with Edward Mars ever leaving her side, not when they stopped for gas or food or toilet breaks. And if he ever did, one of the goons in front came and took his place by her side, a gun in his hand.

Oh, and both her hands and feet were bound.

She fell back against the bed, dismissing the warning in her head about the possible infections she can pick up just by breathing the air in that room. She stared up, paint peeling off the ceiling, a ceiling fan that rotated with a limp, doing nothing but spraying dust in the room.

She did have one real chance to run, yesterday, right after they parked next to the hotel. Mars had removed the cuffs on her ankles, he needed her to be able to step out of the car and walk into the hotel. The car had been unlocked and Mars stepped out. He was supposed to keep an eye on her, pull her out with him. But that didn't happen. He bumped into someone on the sidewalk, and that was her opportunity. Of course Mars wasn't going to let the guy go without him crassly giving him a piece of his mind.

That was her chance. If she was ever going to have a chance that was it. Her legs were free, the door was unlocked, the car was stopped, Mars wasn't looking at her, the driver stepped out. _That was it, she could smell it, her freedom. _And she was ready, everything in her was screaming, _Kate, dammit, run!_

This stranger on the sidewalk had unknowingly given her a chance at freedom. Kate Austen was born to run, it was what she had been doing all her life, running away and never looking back. She grabbed the door handle, ready to pull and do what she does best.

And then she did the dumbest thing ever. She did the one thing that went against her every instinct. Something inside her felt the urge to just sneak a peek at him, the man offering her freedom. She felt a sudden unfamiliar desire to look back, to just see his face, _she owed him that._

And in that split second, Edward Mars had decided for the first time in his life to avoid a confrontation. He quickly turned back towards her, reached into the car and grabbed her arm, "come on, let's go."

She felt a sob bubbing in her chest, _what the hell did I just do? _She stepped out with him, the weight of regret crushing her shoulder. She looked down the street, trying again to catch a glimpse of him. She wasn't sure why.

But she missed him as he drowned in the crowd of this godforsaken place.

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.


	3. 22 September 2004

**22 September 2004**

Kate looked around her, and all she could see in the distance was green. She stretched her shoulders, releasing a knot from her back, and feeling the raging pain in her entire body. She scanned her body quickly. Nothing. Not a single visible injury. _How the fuck is that possible? _She thought to herself. The plane just broke into three pieces in mid air, they just dropped what should have been 50,000 feet from the air. _How the fuck is she still alive? Were there any other survivors? _

_Where was Edward Mars?_

She looked around her again, more panicked this time. _Was any of this even real?_

The pain was real enough.

And then it hit her. _This _was her chance. She can get away now. Run, feel her feet bouncing off the floor, feel the wind in her hair. She looked around her again. _But what if there were other survivors? Injured? In need of help?_

_Who the fuck cares? This was her chance._

She wiped her hands against her pants, brushing away the grass and leaves that hung on to her. She scanned her surroundings. She had no idea where she was, what direction to run towards or what she was going to be running towards. She saw smoke, further inland, it must be where the plane landed. Run in the opposite direction. That was her one instinct.

And so she did. She ran, ignoring the searing pain in her limbs and the fact that the salty wind was stinging against the cuts on her cheek. She was not sure how long she had been running to when she reached that small clearing on the hill by the beach. The small clearing with the shirtless man who asked her to sew him up.

"Excuse me," he said, startling her slightly. She jumped back, taking a moment to understand what was happening. He was hurt and needed her help. _Must have been on the plane. So there are survivors. Why wasn__'__t Edward Mars next to her where she landed? Why wasn__'__t he chasing her?_

She shook her head, trying to understand what the injured man needed from her._ He wanted what?_

Kate's voice shook as she talked to him, her body and mind not working in sync. _Run, Kate, ignore him and just run in the other direction! _Her brain was pretty clear. No point prolonging the inevitable, just run. It wasn't like she was really going to sew up a strangers wound.

But still, she took another step towards him, and he went on explaining, urging her, showing her the gruesome gash on his back. _Yeah, run, NOW!_

He looked at her, warm brown eyes shrouded with unshed tears, a sincere, genuine plea in his voice.

"You can do this. I'm telling you. If you wouldn't mind." there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at her, the way his shoulders fell, like a man drowning, looking to her for salvation.

_Kate, dammit, run! _Every fiber in her was screaming, yelling at her to just turn around and run. This was her last chance.

"Of course I will," she said, taking that last step towards him.

_Fuck._

She sat in front of him, knees bumping, his erratic breath hitting her flushed freckled cheek and his laugh bubbling with earnest mirth when they talked about thread color. The joke floating between them like it would two old friends, and when her fingers rested against his injured back, she felt his heartbeat, pounding rapidly in rhythm with hers.

_Maybe that was how it was supposed to be._

**_END._**

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><p><strong>Thank you so much to every one who read this little ficlet and to everyone who took the time to review. This was just a little thing I wanted to do to honour Lost's 10th year anniversary, so Happy Anniversary, Losties, and here's to ten more!<strong>


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